Before The 'Before Crisis' Crisis
by jen0va99
Summary: AVALANCHE makes a small move, but with the way ShinRa, Inc. is run… they should have no problems finding victory. [SxZxC, TseRu, etc; ShinRa-centric; Utter crack]


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Disclaimer: Square/Squeenix has my sincerest apologies for this one.  
**Rating/Warnings:** R; Brain-rotting humor (surprise). Warnings… god. Language… a lot of things. And yes, everything in here (run-on sentences, confusing syntax, and adjectives and synonyms galore), was done on purpose; OOC as in-character as possible (if one can really do such a thing…).  
**Pairing:** Uh, mostly Seph/Zack/Cloud and Tseng/Rufus, implied others. Some Sephiroth/Scarlet boob-pokeage, but that doesn't count because Sephiroth is very gay and Scarlet's boobs aren't real anyway.  
**Notes:** Hm… well, this is a Before Crisis fic, as you can see. I'm not sure exactly how much AVALANCHE action there'll be in here, but… yeah. …this story is so damn pointless… kinda like a PWP with no sex. Only talk of sex and sex acts.

I think every character gets picked on, too.

And again, I sincerely apologize beforehand for any headaches or other damage this fic may cause.

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**---PART ONE: THE MEETING BEFORE THE 'BEFORE CRISIS' CRISIS MEETING---**  
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Seated smack dab in the middle of the 66th floor of the ShinRa Building is the grand Conference Room, where all business meetings within ShinRa, Inc. are conducted, and where the first part of this fic takes place because there are no other decent locations to do so.

At the moment, the room isn't very busy. There's about 8 billion chairs surrounding the long oak table with some weird glowing halogen lamp thingy (which is probably supposed to be a Mako-powered light or something) trailing down the middle of it, yet only two of the three people in the place are sitting down right now.

One quiet, lonely, black-haired, somewhat angst-riddled man who is not named Vincent Valentine is standing in the corner as if he did something naughty… like controlling a robot cat named Cait Sith and stealing the Keystone sometime in the not-so-distant future.

At the head of the table sits a somewhat stocky man with a mustache. Guess who that is.

And next to him… is a cheap floozy.

"Hm… it doesn't stink in here today," the woman says, because, for whatever reason, she enjoys making comments like that arbitrarily, and thus, gives me an opening for this scene which will now switch to perfect tense.

"Yes, that 'incident' has been dealt with, and cleaned up… by the way, Heidegger's recovery is going smoothly."

Scarlet, the Head of ShinRa Weapon(s) Development, a woman inconsequential to the plot of this story but is making an appearance anyway and is said 'cheap floozy', looked up from the deep cleft of her own bosom to catch her boss' eye. Making a face, she asked, "You mean Heidegger was the one who did… _that_?"

"Apparently."

At the phrase, the gentleman standing in the corner of the room -- who is Reeve, duh -- made himself useful and clicked on the room's overhead Bose® sound system. Crystal clear ShinRa Building theme music flooded through the speakers as the previously stated somewhat stocky man with a mustache stood from his seat and folded his hands behind his back (the best he could), giving himself over to pointless, thoughtful silence.

For a long, dramatic moment, the President stared at the faux, cloudy purple wall behind him which I think is actually supposed to be a window, imagining that it wasn't a faux, cloudy purple wall which I think is actually supposed to be a window at all. Oh, no. In President ShinRa's mind, it was a large, _real_ window, with the wicked, orangey light of sunset filtering in through a set of slightly open, white vinyl horizontal blinds, because that's the typical scene used for all bigwigs when discussing important matters.

Yes, I guess this is the most substantial happening the company has had in a while since no one is stupid enough to fearlessly go up against such a powerful, Planet-raping corporation.

…well, with the exception of the rebel group AVALANCHE, but they don't count a whole lot because this fic takes place six years before they started rigging bombs in Mako Reactors. So you can say that they count a little, but for the moment, the trouble they've caused just isn't as significant as Heidegger's own personal explosions. Therefore, there was no _true_ resistance against ShinRa, and, consequently, no real news to discuss other than stinky bathrooms and how they came to be.

"As the official statement goes, he and Palmer were involved in a heated lard-eating contest at the time the incident broke out." President ShinRa shook his head slightly and murmured, "The outcome wasn't pretty."

Scarlet wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yeah, I know, I stepped in it. The shit literally overflowed into the Ladies' Room for God's sake. KYA HA HA et cetera."

"Indeed."

Three pairs of eyes -- two sets of blue and one set of brown -- drifted up to the double-doors of the Conference Room, which were magically being held open by the newcomer's sheer, unadulterated awesomeness. Soaking up the wondrous, adoring looks which all normal human beings showered his divine self with (worship was his lifeblood), the great man smirked and stated, "I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting."

"We weren't wait—"

"KYA HA HA, you're talking strangely, Reeve!" Scarlet exclaimed at random, laughing behind her hand as a typical villain-type female usually does in this sort of setup.

Reeve stared blankly at her for something like two minutes, and in that time, no one made a sound, and no one moved at all. Except they blinked. And breathed. Because those functions are involuntary and can't be helped unless you're dead, but that's something Sephiroth will help you with if you ask him nicely.

"That line," Reeve started with as much condescension as possible, "is only relevant in the Japanese script, because in it, at that scene, I've got an obvious accent. In English however, the line makes no sense and you suck for repeating it. So shut up, you're a dumb broad, and I hate you."

"KYA HA HA—hey."

The Head of the Urban Development Department -- who is, like I said, Reeve -- went back to face the as-of-yet-nameless-ish newcomer that I'm pretty sure you can already guess who it is and said, "We weren't waiting, Sephiroth."

Wow, you really had to wait a long time for _that_ one to be revealed.

"Mr. President was just telling us about Heidegger's lard-induced diarrhea."

"…thank you for that information, Reeve," Sephiroth said blankly, "Remind me later to gouge my eyes out, will you?"

With that, into the room stepped Sephiroth, the menacing -- even with his very pretty face -- and demigod-like commander of SOLDIER, ShinRa's one and only military force.

…God he's so hot.

He strode slowly down the length of the table, full of pride and purpose, silver hair inexplicably billowing out despite his own lack of speed and the room's lack of wind and/or heavy air circulation at all, his hawt leather outfit producing creaky, ominous leather noises to show that he was indeed scary, again basking narcissistically in the looks his coworkers cast upon his absolute gloriousness.

Then, after deeming his ego sufficiently stroked for the hour, Sephiroth finally stopped his travels next to Scarlet, and stared down at her, creeping the blonde out a little.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked shortly, resting a hand on the back of the chair next to her. Without waiting for an answer because he hates her, Sephiroth sat down in said chair, leather outfit still being all creaky and leathery and hawt.

The blonde-haired, large-breasted, scantily-clad Scarlet cautiously edged away from Sephiroth.

"So, I missed nothing more in this meeting than loose bowels?" the General questioned. He leaned back, sure not to pull his pretty hair, and, at the same time, crossed his arms and his legs sexily. "How unfortunate."

"I also said his recovery is going well," President ShinRa mentioned, once again staring at the wall/window thing with the long name that I don't feel like repeating anymore, "and he should be returning to work within the next couple days to do… whatever it is he does for this company."

"Heidegger is the Head of Public Safety Maintenance," Reeve reminded him, playing the role of my unimportant details man. Also, he has long since started to squeeze a little Cait Sith plushie since he's boring me just standing there without really doing anything but operating the Bose® sound system, which was still playing loud -- and clear.

"He's also one of the bosses of the Turks, apparently, or so Scarlet asks Tseng for comment at the blown up Mako Reactor near Gongaga in six years."

"I see." The President pursed his lips and ignored the second, more important part of Reeve's statement. "Public Safety Maintenance? In that case, he's basically a waste of my not-too-precious-but-I'm-greedy-so-it-is-precious money."

"Yes, and I personally believe you should get rid of him," suggested the silver-haired man. Turning to his right and leaning down in order to stare straight at Scarlet's Tifa-caliber-only-far-more-exposed breasts, Sephiroth said pointedly, "because I personally don't enjoy worthless sacks of fatty flesh being shoved into my face day after day, do you?"

"General Sephiroth!!" the blonde woman balked, crisscrossing her arms over her chest in a vain attempt to cover up her scantily-clad knockers, "Don't you compare my breasts to _Heidegger_!"

"Don't misunderstand, _Scarlet_; I am simply reiterating a blatant sexual preference which you've apparently missed the first ten thousand instances I've rejected you, considering how badly I know you still want me.

"However, in order to force you into wearing less gaudy and more clothing," Sephiroth began, "I am going to proceed to hide my disgust at your uninviting, ungainly bosom behind false moral outrage by bringing to mind the basic codes of workplace decency which _some_ people—" he added a gesture to her chest, enunciating the words to make it crystal clear just who he was referring to, even though… well, duh, "—_obviously_ don't seem to understand since they refuse to cover up, even though I have told you numerous times that I do not receive pleasure from being forced to take in your vast amount of cleavage on a daily basis, _Scarlet_."

Sephiroth paused, voice going cold…er. "I understand that I'm incredibly hot, a great catch, and hard to resist, but I am sorry, _Scarlet_; I do not like you, so please stop trying to seduce me you cheap, cheap whore."

Looking down at his own outfit before going back to stare at Scarlet's breasts, Sephiroth quickly backpedaled, "And this whole breaking of the nonexistent dress code thing doesn't apply to me because my chest doesn't jiggle obscenely every time I take a step, therefore I'm completely exempt."

He paused another time, and took a breath he didn't need to.

"And furthermore, the majority of fans would rather see my well-built chest anyway, deeming my apparel all the more appropriate."

"That isn't true!" the Head of Weapon(s) Development shouted, allowing herself to give into a bitchy glare, "And I don't want you! Anymore. Kind of. Maybe. And I'll have you know, my tits are not _worthless_!! These bad boys are life-savers and deserve to be admired!!"

"Oh, they're _not_ worthless?" Sephiroth smirked. "How so?"

"They feed _babies_, you stupid moron! And they…… they…"

After presenting her whopping one argument, Scarlet fell into a sullen silence upon realizing there were no other uses her boobs actually had, proving that they really were more of a burden than anything, and, of course, proving Sephiroth right.

…and the argument that her magical breasts were beneficial to -- and boosted -- company morale by her putting them on display and effectively providing eye candy for horny male employees and fanboys alike (especially during that scene in Corel where her top wasn't even there at all) was clearly null and void when it came to this particular ShinRa General, who simply refused to agree that tits were attractive.

A ShinRa General who, henceforth, shall be known as 'Sephy' for no good reason at all.

Yes, 'Sephy'.

Because I'm sure that such a cold, influential, and rather manly man like himself would have absolutely no qualms at all about being addressed by a name such as that.

No, really. Sephiroth would definitely still have the ability to remain imposing, dignified, and worthy of only the utmost respect when known as 'the Great 'Sephy''.

…in fact, Sephiroth would _adore_ the name, being the highest ranked SOLDIER (and not to mention an uber 'watch this, men, I can kill _dragons_ in one slash of my **_mighty blade_** as my useless partner _dies_! I can even manage to keep my manly bondage queen leather outfit and my beautiful face and long, silky, beyond womanly hair out of harm's way because I am _far_ superior to you all. And, mind you, I am able to do all of this despite the fact that my stats state that I am, in fact, _not_ invulnerable to fire or any _other_ elemental damage' badass) that he is.

Obviously.

For we all know that on the inside, lying _just_ below that emotionless surface, merciless war heroes turned cold-blooded killers who despise everyone but a grand total of… a few people or so… and have a total 'I am _fucking_ **_insane_**!!' god complex are really nothing more than sugary-sweet, marshmallow-filled, fluffy pink teddy bears oozing with shining love and happiness.

Now, to keep up his façade -- um, reputation -- of being this frigid SOLDIER elite, I am not going to mention that 'Sephy' nearly cried on Zack's shoulder a few times in the Nibelheim sequence which I do not yet know about because this fic takes place six years pre-game, meaning right now, it's one year prior to their honeymoon in Nibelheim.

I mean, mission. In Nibelheim.

I shall also keep to myself the fact that Sephiroth -- fuck, I meant to say 'Sephy' -- loved fuzzy, lop-eared bunnies and had a bit of a furry fetish, as well as a penchant for spanking teenage boys who'd been very, very naughty. However, that information was never to be made mainstream, nor did anyone in the company know about it. But since I'm the one making it up, I knew about it, and now so do you from my mad skillz.

Now, to make this not-really-part-of-the-story story even longer and even more irrelevant to the fic's current standing, the reason why none of Sephiroth's coworkers knew about his affair was because his little lover, Cloud Strife -- the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, 15-year old ShinRa trooper-slash-SOLDIER wannabe-slash-Sephy-'shipper from Nibelheim and everyone's favorite victim as an adult -- had been sworn to secrecy about the great General's long list of perversions or else he'd receive the flogging of his life.

Only that time, the severe flogging was not going to be behind closed doors as such floggings usually were.

Wheedling details of the affair from Zack ('Zax' when he wasn't feeling so fresh), 'Sephy's friend and a SOLDIER First Class who had a little Lolita complex of his own, was also impossible, even though he knew about it as well, which brought the 'people who were aware of Sephiroth's naughtiness' total up to four. I really don't count, though, since I'm the author, so it's really at three people.

You see, Zack had been employed by the General himself to record all of the SephirothxBunny!Cloud action which, more often than not, took place in (Zack's current _female_ Lolita) Aeris the flower girl's mysterious garden during the wee hours of the night. In the church located in the Sector 5 slums, if you ever go back six years before the original game and feel like paying them a surprise visit.

But anyway, to be more precise, Zack videotaped their escapades when he wasn't _involved_ in them, at which time he took up the role of the hungry fox in Sephiroth's dirty twisted sex games.

Shit, there I go again. '_Sephy_'.

…I just can't call him that anymore in the narrative. So he'll only be addressed as 'Sephy' by President ShinRa. Rather, he will be known as 'General Sephy', and sometimes with 'the great' preceding it just so I can add insult to injury.

But I digress.

"'Feed babies'? Not yours," Sephiroth noted, "because no one loves you and no one ever will." He reached over and gave the woman's left boob a hard poke. "In any case, I'm positive the amount of silicone in these would poison a child, thick plastic casing irregardless."

Scarlet stared at Sephiroth, choked when he touched her boob, and eventually slapped the offending hand away even though she really didn't want to. "They aren't _silicone_, Hojo said they were SALINE!"

"So, _Hojo_ performed this atrocity?" he asked, intrigued. More to himself than to Scarlet, he cupped his chin contemplatively, made a musing sound, and -- yes, while staring at her boobies -- murmured, "Hm… for all you know, coming from him, those could be composed of Mako or something even worse. You should be worried."

Sephiroth then looked up, the blonde woman's conventional blue eyes locking with his own. Any other day she would have found herself panting and doing her best to cover as much of his unwilling but hot, hot body with her own, but instead, at that moment, Scarlet was not very happy.

Not happy at all.

Voice lowered to a disarming pitch, sounding like quite the sane-but-still-crazy psychiatrist, Sephiroth questioned gently, "Tell me: do your breasts ever glow eerily during the night?"

Scarlet continued to fume, fists clenching of their own accord, and glared, sorely tempted to turn Sephiroth into her bitch via brutal slap-fights as her own cheeks burned the deep shade of red she wanted to make his.

…a deep red that I guess you can call 'scarlet', a joke-type-thing which I actually don't find to be that funny, but it does bear mentioning.

"Or perhaps the better question is, do they ever mention anything to you about a 'Reunion'?" Oblivious to the woman's ever-growing rage, clearly forgetting that she was the Head of Weapon(s) Development and thereby had many, many forms of mass destruction available to her, Sephiroth babbled on, "Scarlet, do your breasts cause you to worship me for reasons I'm not technically supposed to know at this juncture?"

"Of course not!!!" she exploded, "My breast implants aren't made of Mako, don't worship you, and are definitely _not_ laced with Jenova cells that I'm also not supposed to know about!!"

"…no Jenova?" Aqua eyes returning to their previous position, he muttered, "Well, now I **_really_** don't like them."

"Then stop _looking_ at them!!"

"I can't," the silver-haired General stated bluntly. "The gravitational pull emitting from those gigantic moons of yours prohibits me from staring at something more pleasant. Like a mirror, for example. Or Palmer's ass."

Rightly offended, the woman screeched, "President ShinRa, sir, will you _please_ do something about him before I whip out the as of yet uninvented/uncreated/unnamed Sister Ray and put him out of MY misery!?"

"General Sephy, we all know how gay you are, now kindly leave Scarlet's me-pleasing fun-bags alone," came the President's bored command as he kept his attention to the wall.

Sephiroth frowned. "You can't order me around. Who do you think you are, my boss?"

The sane-ish people in the room who were not currently staring at a wall each raised an inquisitive eyebrow and waited for Sephiroth to just admit to himself how fucking stupid he truly was and be done with it.

"…I promise you ShinRa: one of these days, I shall exact my revenge on you in this very building for dare correcting me," the silver-haired leather freak muttered sourly as he sat back, finally leaving Scarlet and her very exposed boobies alone.

"There you are, Scarlet," President ShinRa said, back to them all, "In return for this favor, I expect three blowjobs from you tonight instead of the usual two."

Scarlet gave him a respectful salute. "Yes sir, Mr. President!"

Of course, at that moment, Tseng, the leader of the Turks' branch in Midgar, decided to venture innocently into the room, and, against his will, heard far more than he ever wanted to know about the surprisingly virile elder ShinRa.

And from now on, Tseng, to the President, will be known as 'Tseng-Tseng-chan'. Unless I'm feeling lazy, in which case he'll be called 'Tsengy'.

"Tseng-Tseng-chan," President ShinRa greeted, though how he knew someone entered the room when it was done so quietly and that the someone who came in was Tseng without sparing a single look will forever be a President ShinRa™ brand mystery. "It's about time you arrived. We were waiting a very long while for you."

Slightly hesitant, he asked, "You were?"

The mighty President gave a mighty, presidential nod. "Very long."

Frowning, the black-haired man glanced down at his watch. "You _did_ say that this meeting was to start at 12:35 Midgar Standard Time, didn't you?"

"That I did."

"…in that case, sir… technically, I'm three minutes early."

"And I admire you for that, Tseng-Tseng-chan, it's good to be punctual."

Once, just once, Tseng -- Turk extraordinaire, a hired gun and kidnapper who has performed all the other unlawful things the job entailed at least one time (and, for 'legitimate' work, partook in 'scouting for potential 'SOLDIER candidates''. So, in other words, Tseng and company kept their eyes out for comely, preferably virginal teenage boys who wouldn't mind if their first good buggering was provided by their hero, ShinRa's very own pederastic General Sephiroth) -- wished the President would forgo using demeaning, ill-suited terms of endearment such as 'Tseng-Tseng-chan' with him.

With his inner bitch sated for the moment, the Turk was able to focus on bigger, better things.

"'Punctual'? Sir, I'm three minutes early, and seconds ago you claimed that I was late for—"

"Yes, and your pay will be severely docked for that insubordination."

"…the meeting hasn't _started_ yet," Tseng asserted, "How could I possibly be _late_ when—"

"It's best not to think about it too hard, Tseng," interrupted Reeve as I stopped finding this routine amusing, "Like I said to Sephiroth, we weren't waiting for him, and we weren't waiting for you, either. Mr. President is just a retard."

As he took a seat next to Sephiroth, the frightening thought that Rufus was some day going to end up a raging moron like his father entered his mind, but the Turk forcefully knocked it away.

Then he dragged it back again, and, once he considered it further, Tseng vowed to kill himself -- and/or Rufus -- before that situation ever had even the slightest chance to take place.

"Well then, now that we have a full house," began President ShinRa, not looking at them, yet, with much intent, continued speaking to the entire four employees in a room which normally sat 8 billion (meaning it wasn't even close to being a 'full house', but they all figured allowing their boss to go on without correction would be less painful in the long run), "let us begin the meeting to discuss this before 'The 'Before Crisis' Crisis' Midgar is currently almost about to be involved in very soon starts."

Tseng, Reeve, Scarlet, and Sephiroth all exchanged wary glances, each of them checking to see if anyone else couldn't comprehend even the nearest gist of the President's last sentence or if it was just them.

It wasn't just them, they all concluded with a shrug.

Of course, if President ShinRa was planning on talking to them like that for the rest of the meeting, then they were all very screwed, and would likely never be able to grasp exactly what the situation that Midgar was currently almost about to be going through very soon was.

"This may be hard for you to take in all at once, so I'd like for you all to take notes, children." Lifting his chin a little, the President informed them, "There will also be a quiz at the end of the meeting, and whomever has the highest final score will be handsomely rewarded."

"…how handsomely?" questioned the red-dressed Scarlet, eyebrow raised in fascination.

"A gold star sticker and five-minute piggyback ride 'round the office, courtesy of General Sephy."

Satisfied, she sat back, giving the silver-haired homosexual who had touched her boob not too long ago an indulgent, sidelong glance.

It didn't take long for Scarlet to decide that sometimes, the risk of breaking a meticulously manicured nail by way of note-taking was a very, very small price to pay for even the slimmest chance of her _ever_ getting the opportunity to ride the 'handsome reward' that was Sephiroth, context of the verb notwithstanding.

The Head of the Urban Development Department -- REEVE, goddammit, why can't you remember this? -- cleared his throat. "But… Mr. President, General Sephiroth is easily the smartest one here, even if he can never seem to act like it."

Nodding, the President said, "Enough with the lengthy introduction, Reeve, get to your point already. I'm one minute ahead of the meeting's stringently scheduled schedule as it is."

Taking the befuddling comment in stride, the black-haired Cait Sith plushie-holding ShinRa employee went on, "What I'm trying to tell you, Mr. President, is that General Sephiroth—"

"General _Sephy_," cut in the elder ShinRa.

Sephiroth's left eye twitched.

"…General _Sephiroth_," Reeve half-growled, "will likely be the only one to pass this quiz with flying colors… somehow—"

"Because I'm extremely intelligent, Reeve, that's how," declared Sephiroth, though I am not inclined to believe him, and Tseng, Scarlet and Reeve wholeheartedly agree with me.

Fingers clenched tightly around his Cait Sith plushie, Reeve fully-growled, "—What I mean is, when he does win, he can_not_ give himself his own reward of a piggyback ride, rendering the—"

The silver-haired General frowned. "And why not? Don't I deserve a piggyback ride for my awesome, record-breaking achievement?"

Trying their best not to listen in on the conversation in order to avoid brain rot, Scarlet and Tseng took out their respective PHS' and began conversing with each other over the non-walkie-talkie-looking-as-I-had-originally-imagined systems via its built-in, hi-tech, Final Fantasy VII equivalent to AOL Instant Messenger™ feature.

…seriously, weren't you all under the impression that a PHS was supposed to look like a walkie-talkie? _I_ never thought it would've looked like a cell phone. Or at least, not a cell phone of this day and age… cell phones of the 1980s were clunky like walkie-talkies, so I guess in some way, I did think they were supposed to look like cell phones, just cell phones of the wrong decade.

…uh… now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

"No, that isn't it… if you'd stop to think for a minute, you'll see that the reward is useless because—"

"Honestly Reeve," President ShinRa scolded, "petty-but-justified jealousy of General Sephy's great greatness? I never would've guessed that'd come from _you_, of all people… Your true colors are showing, Mr. Urban Developer, and I don't like them one bit." He shook his head and tsk'ed. "Put that personal crayon box back in your knapsack, Reeve; I don't want to see you have an outburst like that ever again."

Soberly, Sephiroth nodded his agreement.

Reeve, in turn, stared at the two of them.

Dumbly, ShinRa Sr. stood perfectly still, giving his previous order a good deal of thought. At length, the President almost brought himself to look at Reeve and said, "I will, however, allow you to show purple, because I think purple is pretty."

Again, soberly, Sephiroth nodded his agreement.

So, while Tseng and Scarlet continued typing messages to each other on annoyingly small buttons, mocking their coworkers in a way where said coworkers wouldn't realize they were being mocked, Reeve sighed heavily, smacked his forehead, squeezed his Cait Sith plushie, and finally wished it had been six years in the future so he wouldn't have to deal with the torment that was his current life in ShinRa, Inc. anymore.

…for he knew that through the next six years (until he had a true opportunity to finally snap and betray the company he began hating to work for after he saw how virtuous and cute Cloud Strife -- General Sephiroth's current surreptitious-but-not-very-well-kept-in-that-regard plaything -- and the rest of the then-mercenary's crew was) he, Reeve, the Head of the Urban Development Department, an important man who had been involved in the building and running of Midgar, was forever doomed to be surrounded by frikkin' idiots.

……but thankfully for him, one of those idiots will be dead and gone in approximately one years' time once the mission to Nibelheim was required and set into motion, so at least he had that to look forward to.

………Reeve also knew that now he was forever doomed to be my unimportant details man, repeating with his pathetic, angsty sob story things that all of you should fully realize and comprehend already, provided you've played the game that takes place six years after the game that this fic is based on takes place.

…………which you probably have.

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A/N: …yeah, I don't know, but more of this is coming.

Yes, you heard me.

More.

Of this.

…ph33r.


End file.
